Irene and Sherlock go to Dinner
by IzzyDelta
Summary: Sherlock finally gives in to one of Irene's dinner invitations after he returns after the fall. This is what happens between the two of them afterwards. DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK CHARACTERS. Based on a prompt by a Facebook friend.
1. Dinner Time

**Irene and Sherlock AU**

**Chapter 1**

_16 August 2013_

Irene sits on her own at a table for two in a corner of her favourite restaurant. She looks around the restaurant at the other patrons enjoying the cuisine and experience of one of the most expensive restaurants in London. She surreptitiously glances at her watch and returns her gaze to the front door. She sighs and prepares to abandon the table. _Typical,_ she thinks _agrees to dinner but neglects to turn up_. She stands and looks around to catch the eye of a waiter or the maître d'. She casts a final glance to the entrance and spots a familiar figure entering through the rotating door. She retakes her seat watching him. He looks over at her feeling her gaze. He grins slightly causing her to glare back. The maître d' intercepts him as he approaches her table. He gestures over to her and the maître d' lets him join her. 'Miss Adler.' He greets her as she stands to receive him. She slaps his face. His hand cups his smarting cheek. 'I suppose I deserved that.'

'Yes, yes you did.' She retakes her chair and he slots himself in the chair opposite her.

'Don't blame me for being late. _I_ was all ready to be here nice and early. But my _friends_ had other ideas.'

'I didn't know you had friends, Mr Holmes.'

'Please Miss Adler, if I were you I wouldn't be insolent to the man who saved your life.'

'I didn't ask you to.'

'Then what were all the dinner invitations for?' Irene looks at her associate but the arrival their waiter with menus and the wine list stops her from retorting. 'A white wine and a Champagne spritzer please.' Irene's eyebrow rises. The waiter retreats to fetch their drinks.

'So, Sherlock, how do you know what my favourite drink is?'

'Oh, I thought you knew Irene, I know everything.' The waiter returns bearing their drinks on a tray, he sets the white wine in front of Sherlock and the Champagne spritzer in front of Irene. They each sip from their drinks. Sherlock opens his menu and looks through the array off dishes available. Irene stares openly at him.

'I was told you never ate.'

'Of course I eat. Just not with any regularity or when I'm working.' Sherlock scoffs. Irene opens her menu. 'And I can't be bothered with a starter let's go straight to the main course.'

'That's fine by me. I'm told the vegetable pasta is especially good.' Sherlock sneers.

'I've just finished a case. I want meat.'

'Then get a steak.' A mobile's ringtones starts up and Sherlock fumbles for it in his pocket. He glances at the screen and groans.

'Sorry I've to take this.' Sherlock all but runs out of the restaurant to answer the phone. Outside he presses the button to answer the call. 'What do you want… I'm having dinner… with a friend… no not my skull… no not John or Lestrade either… is poor Mycroft feeling left out… well tell him I'll be having a large steak with plenty of chips and veg like I said I would… yes. Oh and let him know I might not be home tonight. You phoned me not the other way around.' Sherlock hangs up and stares pointedly at a CCTV that had turned to face him during the phone conversation. He turns and walks back into the restaurant. 'Where were we?'

'About to order.' Irene summons a waiter and they order. Irene chooses the vegetable pasta while Sherlock selects a large juicy rare steak with chips and salad. Sherlock and Irene somehow manage to turn sexual innuendo into small talk for the rest of their dinner. They skip the coffee and leave the restaurant after paying the bill.

'What now?' Sherlock asks as they step outside. He glances around noting the positions of all the CCTV cameras.

'You don't trust me?' she asks him ignoring his question but watching him look around.

'Of course not, but I also distrust my brother.' An Aston Martin Vanquish pulls up in front of them and Sherlock opens the rear door for her.

'Aren't you coming too?' Sherlock smiles.

'Why? Do you want me?'

'I've always wanted you.' Irene smiles seductively. Sherlock glances at the closest CCTV camera, smirks buts slides in next to Irene.


	2. Have You Worked It Out yet?

**Chapter 2**

_17 August 2013_

Sherlock climbs out of the cab outside the door to 221b Baker Street. His face wears an expression of smugness. He glances around taking in the positions of every camera and stationary car. He spots a sleek black car parked just off to one side. His face falls and he groans. He slots his key into the keyhole and reluctantly enters the flat. He slowly climbs the seventeen steps to the living room. He pauses by the door and pulls himself together. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. 'What do you want Mycroft?' He asks before either John or Mycroft can open their mouths to talk.

'I wondered who your… date last night was.' Mycroft replies smoothly.

'We Mycroft… we wondered.' John interjects

'Apologies.' Sherlock glares at his brother and flatmate.

'Aren't I allowed a little privacy?'

'Since you faked your death no.' John say flatly. 'Sherlock, you put us through hell the eighteen months you were gone.'

'Us?'

'Me, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson even Mycroft were hurt. I was followed.'

'By Mycroft probably.' Sherlock mutters under his breath

'No, well yes but I meant by journalists, reporters and photographers. They dogged my every movement for three months, then periodically every few months or so. I had to take out injunctions just so I could buy milk without being pestered.' John sighs heavily after his rant. 'So who was she?' he asks in a hard tone. Sherlock smiles and walks through the kitchen to his bedroom.

'Sherlock!' he ignores the cries of his friend and family. The text alert noise on Sherlock's phone goes off. He darts back through to the living room but John has gotten to his coat ahead of him. John tosses the phone to Mycroft before Sherlock can get through the sliding door.

'Give me my phone Mycroft.' Mycroft opens the text and reads from it.

'Lovely dinner even better night.' Mycroft and John stare at Sherlock who turns and heads back his room. 'I assume Miss Adler is well, Sherlock.' Sherlock stops in his tracks and looks back at his brother.

'Miss _Adler_, You mean Irene Adler?'

'How did you know?'

'Honestly Sherlock, did you really think you could fool me for long?' Mycroft smirks from his chair. 'I admit you managed it for a few months but I soon worked it out.'

'Hang on. _Irene_ _Adler_? You went to…?'

'Yes John, I did. I needed her to owe me a favour or two.'

'And dinner today?'

'I couldn't be bothered to say no for the hundredth odd time. Besides I wanted to see what she would say to me.' Mycroft raises his eyebrow. 'Nothing of importance.' Sherlock replies to the unasked question.

'Then why did you go to her house?'

'It was polite to answer her invitation. Was it not?' Sherlock turns his back on the two of them and retreats to his bedroom. Mycroft smirks at John.

'Worked it out yet?' John returns Mycroft's gaze but with a confused expression.

'Worked what… oh?' He suddenly understands. A smile spreads across his face. Mycroft's eyes sparkle. He stands and makes his way to the top of the stairs. He pauses and returns to the sitting room. He beckons to John who quietly slips over to him.

'You're going to tease him about this aren't you?' Mycroft asks almost silently John's eyes sparkle in reply. Mycroft leaves leaving John standing by the door looking after him. John makes his way back to his chair and picks up the days paper.

Over the past week Sherlock made sure that he was in earshot or sightline of john at all times. Meaning he did not go on the search for clues on his own. John had had no need to go to the surgery because the case that had preceded Sherlock's night with Irene had paid very well, ensuring that the two of them could live comfortably for several months _even with _paying for Sherlock's destructive experiments.


	3. You Have Been Ignoring Me Lockie

**Chapter 3**

_24 August 2013_

John slouches in his chair asleep. Sherlock watches him for a moment or two. Suddenly, Sherlock's shoulder starts to ache in sympathy of the stiffness that John would feel if he doesn't go to bed. Sherlock rises from his chair and shakes John by his good shoulder. 'What?' John rubs his eyes.

'Go to bed John.' John peers at Sherlock. 'If you don't go to bed now your shoulder will severely ache in the morning.' John grunts but lays his paper on the coffee table. He stands, stretches and wearily makes his way upstairs yawning. Sherlock retakes his chair and watches John up the stairs. He steeples his fingers under his chin and starts thinking. His text alert goes off. He ignores it but it goes off again. He sighs heavily and digs his phone out of a pocket. He looks at the texts; _I'm bored lets have dinner again… oh are you ignoring me my dear Lockie?_

'It's not very nice to ignore people you know.' Sherlock plasters a smile on his face.

'I'd heard your car pull up outside. So I didn't answer knowing you would be joining me shortly. Tea?'

'Decaffeinated.' Sherlock moves to the kitchen and Irene takes a seat on the sofa. Minutes later, Sherlock hands her a cup of tea which she accepts gratefully. Sherlock resumes his seat in his chair and sips his tea. 'You've have been ignoring me Lockie.'

'I have done no such thing.' He pauses. 'And when did I give you permission to call me Lockie?'

'Oh, but it suits you down to the ground.' Sherlock tenses. Irene carefully places her teacup onto the arm of the sofa and moves behind Sherlock. She lays her hands on Sherlock's shoulders and starts to massage the muscles over his shoulder blades. Subconsciously he starts to relax and lean back into the massage. 'Don't you like Lockie?'

'I liked it as a childhood nickname. But it's Sherlock now. Only Sherlock.' Sherlock abruptly stands and steps away from his chair forcing Irene to stop the massage.

'Why? What happened?'

'Go. Please go.' Sherlock whispers as he refuses to look at Irene preferring to stare into the kitchen instead.

'Sherlock, tell me please…' Irene sounds almost desperate. Sherlock spins to face her his face hard and still.

'It was my name before my family decided that I wasn't good enough for them. Before they decided that I was a freak. When my brother abandoned me to our father's tender mercies.' Irene steps back at the poisonous words from the detective's mouth and the malevolence in his eyes.

'No.'

'What?'

'No. I won't go. I refuse to.' Irene steps around the chair closer to Sherlock. 'You need someone. Even if you won't admit it to yourself.'

'I've got John.' Irene dramatically looks around the flat.

'Then where is he? Upstairs.' She scoffs 'Yeah, that's really useful.' Irene steps closer to Sherlock. His face falls settling into a sad, lost, lonely expression. Irene wraps her arms around the man seven inches taller than her. Sherlock stands in the hug stiffly. Irene steps back as she looks up at his face surprised to see tears falling from his eyes. She tentatively reaches up and strokes the tears off his face. Suddenly he grabs her face and kisses her roughly. She pulls back and stares into his eyes. 'I've always wondered what you're sexuality is.' Sherlock sneers

'Must I have a label?

'Yes.'

'I'm bisexual.' Irene stares at him as he whispers the answer. 'I've always been drawn to both men and women. All my life.'

'And John?'

'As far as I know we're both bi.'

'_Really_?' Sherlock smirks.

'If I didn't know better, woman, I'd say you were sussing out the competition.' Irene smirks and pulls his face down into a deep kiss to avoid answering. Sherlock steers them around the furniture of the flat and into his bedroom.

_Next morning_

John walks down the stairs into the living room expecting to find Sherlock either draped over the sofa or curled up in his chair. He looks around and spots the two half-drunk cups of tea, Irene's coat and… Irene dressed in one of Sherlock's shirts standing in front of the kitchen window. 'Okay.' Irene turns to face him.

'Morning John.' She smiles a lazy smile. 'Tea?'

'Erm, please. Milk no sugar.' Irene turns back to the kettle. She indicates Sherlock's bedroom door.

'What about him?'

'Milk and two.' Irene makes up three mugs of tea, taking Sherlock's into his bedroom. She comes back out and joins John at the kitchen table. 'When did you get here?' He asks after taking several sips from his mug.

'We both walked up a flight of stairs at the same time.' John looks at her.

'So after Sherlock woke me to send me to bed.' John mused. Irene smiles sighing. John raises his eyebrows at her. 'What?'

'Are you bi?' John splutters, nearly choking on his tea.

'Am I what?'

'Only Sherlock said…'

'He said?' john tilts his head at Irene.

'That as far as he was aware the both of you were bi. But you are always saying that you aren't gay.'

'Gay implies that you only are attracted to the same gender as yourself.' Irene laughs. 'I'm not "John-Three-Continents-Watson for nothing you know.' Sherlock enters the kitchen wrapped in a bed sheet carrying his teacup. He slumps down at the table. 'Good sleep Sherlock?'

'Something like that.' Sherlock mutters into his arms. Sherlock's phone beeps earning a groan to slip through Sherlock's lips. John reaches for the phone. He opens the text scans it and pokes Sherlock's shoulder.

'Get dressed.' Sherlock looks up petulantly.

'No.'

'Fine, I'll go to the triple homicide of mum and two kids with no visible signs of forced entry or suicide.'

'It's the father.'

'He's been dead three years according to Lestrade.' Irene smirks as Sherlock's expression turns into one of interest. 'Like I said get dressed.' Sherlock eagerly darts into his room returning fully dressed minutes later. He puts his hand out for his phone just as the phone starts to ring.

'Lestrade, what's the address?' Pause. 'Right we'll be there.' Sherlock aborts the call abruptly and looks at Irene. 'You'll be gone by the time we get back won't you?'

'Are you sure you don't want a repeat?' Irene smirks back.

'You two now is not the time.' john stands. 'Irene thanks for the tea.' Sherlock strides from the kitchen and out of the flat. John listens to the door onto the street. 'If the two of you do repeat whatever happened last night make sure he eats something afterwards.' John leaves the flat to catch up with Sherlock. Irene stands and moves over to the window and watches them leave in a cab to the crime scene. She walks the length of the flat to the en suite bathroom and stands in the shower.

One hour later she emerges from Sherlock's bedroom wearing her clothes from the previous night. She picks up her phone and retrieves her coat before leaving the flat making sure the door is locked behind her. She makes her way to the street and climbs into her car waiting for her just outside the door. It pulls into the traffic and drives Irene back to her elegant home.


	4. We Need To Talk About Jim

Chapter 4

_30 August 2013_

Irene steps out of the car and walks the few steps towards her front door. She notices that the door is slightly ajar. She pushes it open and scents an expensive men's cologne. Following the trail of the scent she finds out that the owner of the fragrance has ensconced himself in the sitting room. Outside the door to the room she pulls herself together and opens the door. 'Sherlock, I really should…' Irene trails off as she spots who really has installed himself on the sofa.

'Oh Irene, really?' He drawls. 'I mean Sherlock really?' Irene tenses.

'Moriarty, what do you want?' Irene settles herself into her favourite chair.

'Irene, isn't it blindingly obvious?' He pauses. 'Obviously not, I want _you_, darling, to spy on Sherlock Holmes.'

'No, no way.' Jim Moriarty looks at her genuinely hurt.

'Why not?' he pouts.

'One, that doesn't work on me and two, when I last got involved with you everything went as far south as it could possibly go causing my best friend and partner to be killed and I vowed never again.' Irene glares at Jim. Jim laughs humourlessly. Irene glances towards the window, then around at the room. As she scans she spots several cameras situated around the room in high places. Looking back at Jim curiosity gets the better of her. 'What type of things would you be talking about?'

'Don't worry it would be nothing about any sex life the two of you _might _have. Just his cases and his very annoying big brother.' Irene purses her lips.

'I might think about the first. But I definitely can't help with the second.'

'Why?' Jim's voice is steely.

'Simply because the two of them hate each other.' Irene glances at her watch. 'Now if you'll excuse me I have to change for an appointment.' Jim watches Irene rise and walks gracefully towards the door.

'Is it with lover boy?' Jim asks inspecting his nails.

'If by lover boy you mean Sherlock, no it's not.' Irene flashes an indifferent smile at him and walks out of the room. Jim stares at the door. He stands and walks to the door, opens it and walks into the empty entrance hall. He looks up the stairs sneers but exits the house. From her place near the top of the stair Irene sighs with relief and sinks back against the wall. She closes her eyes before pulling herself together. 'Amy I need you to cancel my appointment.' Irene calls down the stairs before she slips into her bedroom to change her outfit.

Sixty minutes later Irene's Aston Martin Vanquish pulls up outside the Baker Street flat. She climbs out and looks around at the calm street. She walks to the street door and inserts her stolen key into the lock. She turns and looks back at the street. Quickly she enters through the door and closing it behind her. She looks up the stairs and spots Sherlock's silhouette standing at the top of the stairs looking down at her. 'Sherlock.' He turns and walks into the main living of the flat. Irene ascends the stairs and follows Sherlock into the flat. 'We need to talk.'

'About?'

'Jim.' Sherlock indicates for Irene to take John's chair. He waits for Irene to sit before taking his seat facing her.

John walks along Baker Street and spots the two black cars parked outside Speedy's and the flat's front door. As he approaches the flat the rear passenger-side door opens and Mycroft climbs out. John walks up to Mycroft and leans against the side of the car. 'What going on?'

'I believe my brother and Miss Adler are having a chat.'

'And you aren't interrupting why?' Mycroft takes out his phone, accesses his message inbox and turns to the screen towards john to show him the most recent message.

'Don't bother interrupting. You don't want to know.' John's reads from the screen. John glances up at Mycroft. 'Doesn't say anything about me.' John steps toward the door, but Mycroft grabs his arm.

'I wouldn't.' John gently but firmly removes Mycroft's arm. 'Apologies.'

'It's my flat to. He has no right to keep me out of it.' John looks up at the windows of their flat. 'Besides he hasn't texted me asking to give them privacy.' John steps up to the door and unlocks it. Mycroft steps up to the door but John closes it in his face not realising Mycroft was there. He climbs the stairs and enters the living. 'Sherlock. Irene.' He walks through to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. 'Want tea?' he asks.

'Please.' The two of them chorus.

'Irene, how do you take yours?'

'Milk, one thanks.'

'Did Mycroft try to stop you coming up?' Sherlock's gaze is fixed on John's back.

'Yes. I pointed out that you had texted him and not me. So I came up.' John carries the tea for Sherlock and Irene in to the living room and puts the teacups onto the coffee table between the two. 'May I ask what's going on or don't you want me to know?'

'Moriarty's back.' Sherlock states.

'Right.'

'And he asked me to spy on Sherlock.' John looks between the two of them.

'And you said?'

'No then I'll think about it. I came straight here cancelling a different appointment.'

'Lucky Sherlock.' John comments returning to the living room with his tea. He pauses and walks to the stairs.

'Where are you going?'

'Upstairs.' A yawn forces John's jaw apart. 'I didn't have a good night last night.' John heads up to his bedroom to zonk out. Sherlock looks at Irene.

'Are you going to tell Mycroft?'

'Should I?'

'It's up to you, Sherlock. But it's one of the things that Jim was interested in.' Sherlock steeples his fingers and enters his mind palace. Irene watches him as he thinks while she drinks her tea. As soon as she finishes her tea she steps around the table and kisses Sherlock on the cheek. She leaves the flat leaving him to his thinking.

In the street, Mycroft steps up to intercept Irene. She takes out her phone to check her messages. 'He's thinking.' She tells Mycroft without looking up. She walks towards her car and stops. She looks over her shoulder at Mycroft. 'Don't bother following me.'

'What did the two of you talk about?'

'Why don't you ask him?' Irene climbs into her car and it drives off leaving Mycroft looking after it. He turns and enters the flat where his younger brother lives.


	5. Sherlock Summoned

Chapter 5

_7 September 2013 8:23am_

Sherlock lies draped on the sofa, snoring slightly. John walks in the living room from his bedroom and nudges Sherlock awake. 'Where's Irene?' John moves across the flat to the kitchen.

'Why?'

'If you decide answer your phone, you would find out.' John replies tartly, tossing the phone across to his petulant flatmate. Sherlock catches it lazily and scrolls through the missed calls and unread text messages. He stops at one and stares at the screen.

'He was ordered to summon me?'

'Precisely, get dressed. Tea will be waiting for you.' Sherlock's mobile goes off again. He reads the text and chuckles. 'Irene?'

'Huh?' Sherlock looks up from his phone. 'Yes. Jim's approached her again.'

'What did she say?'

'She's still deciding.' John chuckles as Sherlock reluctantly regains his feet and lumbers through the flat to his room. John finishes making the tea and sets a cup on the table closest to Sherlock's bedroom. He takes a seat at the table as his phone begins to ring.

'Hello? Greg… he's coming, as soon as he's dressed. What's the address? We'll be there in about thirty or forty minutes. How is it you were ordered to summon the idiotic genius?' John bursts out laughing. As soon as he regains complete control of himself. 'Really? He is really going to hate that.'

'Hate what?' Sherlock reappears showered, shaved and dressed in a clean suit.

'The reason.' John smirks. Before returning his attention back to the phone. 'Greg, we're on the way.' John aborts the call and returns his phone to his pocket. 'Ready?' Sherlock nods and the two of them head down to the street to hail a cab.

Forty three minutes later, the cab carrying Sherlock and John pulls up in front of a taped off road. 'Can't go any further than this mate.' John leans forward and thrusts a bundle of notes towards the driver.

'Doesn't matter.' John reaches for the door but Lestrade opens it from the outside. The two men grin at each other before John breaks eye contact to rouse Sherlock from his mind palace. 'Behave.' John warns Sherlock before letting him climb out of the cab.

'He'd better.' Lestrade mutters in an under tone as Sherlock sweeps past him towards the crime scene further down the road. Lestrade pats john on his back and together they duck under the police tape and follow Sherlock. 'What's he been like?'

'How do you mean?'

'Since he started how shall we say it?'

'Dating Irene?'

'Yeah.'

'He's been normal. Obsessed about Moriarty, sleeping and eating more when not on a case. But otherwise more annoying than usual.'

'Normal for Sherlock then.' John grimaces. 'Has he worked out about…?' Lestrade trails off.

'I don't think so, he knows I'm seeing someone but he's not sure whom.'

'Let's keep it that way shall we?' the two of them approach the second line of police tape where Sherlock is arguing with Sergeant Donovan.

'I was summoned. Let me through.'

'No one told me Freak. So no.' Lestrade sighs.

'Donovan?'

'Sir?'

'The chief asked him here.' Donovan sighs heavily and lifts the police tape to let the three men through. 'Carter, take over from Donovan.'

'Yes sir.' A uniformed police officer takes over the spot where Donovan was guarding the perimeter.

'You're coming with us.' He tells the plain clothed Sergeant. The four of them walks towards the house where a group of various uniformed and plain-clothed police officers mill about outside. Lestrade steers Sherlock towards the man in uniform in the middle of the group. 'Commissioner Parker, sir, this is Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.' The man turns to look at the three men.

'Good, they're here.' Commissioner Parker faces Sherlock fully. The two men stare at each other. 'Sherlock.'

'Sir.' Sherlock is unnaturally contrite. Lestrade and John glance at each other.

'You know each other?' John asks dubiously

'How's your father?' The Commissioner ignores John's question.

'You know he refuses to talk to me.'

'Don't you try?'

'Plenty of times, he ignores me not the other way around.' Sherlock retorts. The Commissioner grimaces at the statement.

'It's inside.' The commissioner leads Sherlock inside the house. John, Lestrade and Donovan follow. Anderson emerges from through the front door. He spots Sherlock walking just behind Commissioner Parker and sneers. 'Mind your manners.' Sherlock smirks.

'May I ask sir, what's he doing here?'

'Name, rank?'

'Andrew Anderson, Forensic Scientist.'

'Why did you make that face at him?'

'Because he's jealous of my intellect, sir.' Sherlock interjects. 'He amongst others attempt to belittle me.'

'Does it work?' Sherlock snorts.

'Not really, I tend to win our verbal spats.'

'Further than verbal?'

'No, sir.'

'Good, keep it that way.' He turns to Anderson. 'If I hear that you have insulted him again you might want to look for another job. Understood?' Anderson nods bemused.

'If I might sir?' Lestrade asks hesitantly, Commissioner Parker nods. 'It's not just Anderson here who attempt to belittle Sherlock. A lot of others do it too.'

'Tomorrow, you give me names Inspector.' Lestrade gulps and nods in acquiescence. 'Good.' Commissioner Parker barges past Anderson and leads Sherlock into the house. John navigates himself to position himself on Sherlock's shoulder.

'How do you know him?' John murmurs. Sherlock glances at the Commissioner.

'He's my uncle and godfather.' A small hint of pride can be heard in Sherlock's tone. 'Before you ask, no he didn't know I was consulting for the force.'

'You should have told me Sherlock.'

'I prefer to be independent Uncle. You would have insisted that I would be tracked, I get and got enough from Mycroft alone.'

'We actually care about you.'

'And I keep saying I don't need the two of you to keep watching over me. Not any more.' Commissioner Parker stops in the middle of a room, turns and faces Sherlock. He grabs Sherlock's biceps forcing Sherlock to look him in the eyes.

'But we still will. Especially since your stunt last year.' Sherlock sneers making the commissioner sigh in despair. 'I hope you aren't like this when attempting to talk to your father.'

'No I attempt to be as unlike me as I possibly can.'

'You attempt to be Mycroft.'

'God, help us.' Lestrade mutters.


	6. The Crime Scene

Chapter 6 

_7 September 2013 9:30am_

Commissioner Parker indicates a door on the far side of the room where they are standing. Sherlock looks over to the door then back at his uncle. 'What is it?' Sherlock asks.

'Just go and see. If anyone objects say I sent you.' Sherlock nods and walks towards the door. John, Lestrade and Donovan follow him.

'Have you seen the scene yet Lestrade?' Sherlock shoots over his shoulder pausing at the door.

'No. Only the forensic officers have.' Lestrade glances at Donovan. 'Anything wrong?'

'The commissioner is Parker.' She points at Sherlock. 'He's Holmes.' Sherlock sighs dramatically.

'Marriage, Donovan.' John gets in before Sherlock. 'Commissioner Parker must have married into the Holmes family.'

'Half right John.' Sherlock glances back at his uncle. 'We share no blood. He's the husband of my mother's baby sister.'

'Nice and complicated explanation thank you Sherlock.' Lestrade mutters. Sherlock opens the door and the four of them stare into the room. Sherlock swallows and enters the room. After barely a moments hesitation John and Lestrade follow, Donovan stays by the door. 'You don't have to stay with us.'

'I'll be fine.' She steps in, letting her professional exterior drop into place, and looks around at the multiple streaks of blood covering the walls and ceiling. At the four dead bodies, one of which was completely mutilated and decapitated, the second had been cut open right down the front, the third had multiple stab wounds and the final body looked like it should have been asleep and tucked up in bed. John squats down next to the second body as Sherlock examines the pieces of the first corpse. Lestrade and Donovan let their eyes look all over the room.

'Well John?' Sherlock asks.

'Give me a chance.' John mutters. 'This one bled to death, the wound didn't kill him.' John moves to the third body. 'She died immediately from the first wound. Wouldn't have felt thing.'

'Which one was the first?' Lestrade asks. John indicates the wound in the neck.

'Severed the windpipe.' Lestrade nods. 'It's surgical, the precision of this one. That one was messy.' John tilts his head in the direction of the second body. He glances at the mutilated body. 'That one's obvious from here.'

'Beheaded before his limbs were loped off.'

'And him?'

'Poison.' Sherlock speaks for the first time since entering the room. 'Slow acting. He was made to watch all.' Sherlock gestures around the room.

'Who is he?' Donovan asks. Sherlock freezes looking back at the corpse, which had been poisoned. He strides to the door.

'Commissioner?' he shouts through the house. Commissioner Parker makes himself visible but doesn't come anywhere near the murder room.

'You know.' Sherlock nods. 'Finished?'

'Not yet.' the commissioner disappears and Sherlock turns back to face the room.

'Sherlock?'

'Record this.' Donovan takes out a Dictaphone. 'First the body at the far right was injected with a slow acting poison and was forced to watch as the other three were tortured in front of him. The first body to be tortured was him. That isn't one wound but a series of small incisions. It obviously failed to get anything from the first victim. The second torture was the victim has the multiple stab wounds but her killer missed judged and killed her. The killer took his rage at the quick death out on the final victim. The poisoned victim died while the others were tortured so he was left alone.'

'The killer would have been covered in blood.' Lestrade muses as Donovan finishes the recording. Sherlock's phone goes off. _Head_ _upstairs_. Sherlock strides from the room closely followed by the other three. Sherlock's phone chimes again. _Master room_. He leads all four of them into the main bedroom. Blood stained clothes are scattered about the floor. The phone chimes for a third time. _Look for that suit you gave me_. Sherlock strides to the wardrobe.

'What?' He mutters to himself as he looks through the wardrobe. '_What_?' he shouts incensed. 'How _dare _they?'

'What's up Sherlock?' John asks placing a hand on his shoulder.

'I gave my uncle a suit that cost a lot of money. I gave it to him when he was appointed commissioner and I had been clean for a year. It meant a lot to the both of us.' Sherlock runs a hand through his curls almost at the point of tears. 'I know the suit could be replaced but what it meant can't.' Sherlock scrubs his eyes and looks around the room. 'There's too much discarded clothing for one man. There were at least two possibly three.' Sherlock opens the window and sticks his head out. 'How many suits do you have?' he shouts down to the street

'Six three-piece suits, six two-piece suits and three uniforms. Twenty shirts. None in cleaning' Comes the reply.

'Fifteen. Only eleven.' Sherlock steeples his fingers under his chin. 'One uniform missing, Uncle's wearing it. The suit I gave him and his navy blue gone, his charcoal three piece gone but waistcoat remaining. Mycroft's going to be pissed.' Sherlock turns and strides from the room tapping away at the keypad on his phone. John glances at Lestrade before following. Lestrade and Donovan remain in the room.

'You do know whose house this is?'

'Yes sir, the Commissioner's, but who was poisoned?'

'The youngest nephew of the Commissioner.' Lestrade mutters. 'The Commissioner was fond of the boy but not of the man. He's blood rather than Sherlock who's not.'


	7. Relationships Discovered

Chapter 8

_7 September 2013 10:30am_

Sherlock strides out of the house onto the street. He stops by an ugly looking gnome on the small patch of lawn in front of the house. 'May I smash this?' Commissioner Parker smiles and nods in assent. Sherlock grabs the garden ornament and throws it at the small garden wall with such force the thing smashes into tiny fragments making everyone jump.

'Jesus Sherlock.' John mutters 'All over a suit?'

'Not just any suit Doctor Watson.' The Commissioner interjects. 'We didn't like that little troll anyway. Mycroft gave it to us as a house warming gift.'

'Does Aunt Corin know about all this?'

'Yes and no, she's currently with your parents.'

'What are you going to do?' The commissioner looks at him. 'Mycroft. I would offer but I have no spare rooms.'

'I don't think I could cope with your mess Lock.' Sherlock grins and pulls the Commissioner into a hug. All bottom jaws of the attending police officials drop.

'There goes my uncaring sociopath image.' Sherlock mutters as he draws back. Parker clips him over the ear.

'Don't be facetious. The people who know you know that you care. Those who assume that you don't aren't worth the bother.' The Commissioner's gaze drifts from Sherlock to Donovan as he speaks the last sentence. She swallows nervously.

'I'll find them, Uncle David. I'll get them.' Lestrade and John quietly move past Sherlock and David Parker and start making their way up the street. Donovan follows her immediate superior

'He's ordered Donovan and me off our other cases to help Sherlock. He wants Sherlock on this case and not the police.'

'But you two represent the police when we interview suspects?' Lestrade nods.

'And he will be reimbursed for everything whether he likes it or not.'

'He'll say it's a favour for family.' John points out as the three of them duck under the second lot of police tape.

'Then we say that Parker ordered the force to pay him.' Lestrade sticks an arm out to summon a taxi. 'TAXI.' The first taxi stops and John, Lestrade and Donovan climb in.

'Where to?'

'Not quite sure.' John replies. 'He knows though.' John nods towards Sherlock who is striding up the street towards them.

'Scotland Yard.' Sherlock orders the cabbie after climbing in. 'Yes, I know the force is reimbursing me. Won't take no for an answer.'

'Remind you of anyone?' Sherlock frowns at Lestrade. 'You, Sherlock.' John clarifies. 'You take after him in that regard.'

'I do not.' Lestrade and Donovan snort in derision.

'Yes you do.' Lestrade retorts. Sherlock ignores him, preferring to scour the Internet on his phone. John and Lestrade smirk at each other.

Twenty minutes later the cab pulls outside the front entrance of New Scotland Yard. Sherlock looks up for a brief moment before returning his gaze back to the screen of his phone. 'John, Donovan go in.' John and Donovan glance at each other but climb out of the cab. John sticks his head back in.

'What do you want us to get?'

'I'll text you.' John rolls his eyes but follows Donovan into Scotland Yard. As soon as the two of them disappear through the doors Sherlock looks up at Lestrade but stays silent. Lestrade shifts uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

'What?' He asks finally

'Are you?'

'Am I what?' Sherlock doesn't reply and types out a text to John.

'You know what I'm talking about.' Sherlock casts a significant glance towards the police station.

'Nope, sorry, I don't Sherlock.' Lestrade avoids Sherlock's gaze.

'John.' Lestrade freezes. He attempts nonchalance.

'What about him?'

'The two of you think you're being discreet. You are, but that's not the point. Nice move of John to buy the same aftershave as you. Took me longer to deduce what happened.' Sherlock speaks emotionlessly. Lestrade stares at him.

'Have you talked to John about this?'

'He knows how to avoid the subject with me.'

'You have any problem with us?'

'Why should I?' Lestrade tries to analyse the expressionless face on the man sitting opposite him in the taxi. 'John's choices of women are deplorable. You however are a different matter.'

'Ummm… right thanks, I think.' Sherlock flashes him a smile and returns to his phone. Lestrade's phone beeps. He accesses the message and laughs. 'John knows you too well.' Sherlock raises his eyebrow. Lestrade brandishes the phone. 'He's worked out that you know. They've got the stuff you want.'

'You're not worried?'

'Not particularly, most of the yard worked it out early on.'

'Him coming in without me.' Realisation dawns on Sherlock that he actually doesn't know how long the two of them have been seeing each other. 'How long?'

'Since, the anniversary of your deplorable escapade. Really, it was John coming in while you were dead that told the yard not sans you.'

'Eight months.' John and Donovan appear at the door to the yard. John strides over and slips into the cab next to Lestrade making Donovan sit next to Sherlock. She sneers. 'Be nice.' Lestrade warns her. 'Where to now?'

'Whitehall.' The cab pulls away from the curb and drives towards the centre of London.

Thirty minutes later Sherlock strides down the corridors towards his brother's office. Mycroft's personal assistant, Anthea, attempts to stop Sherlock from entering his brother's office. 'It's family. Our uncle sent me.' He smiles and pushes past her and he opens the door. 'Before you say anything brother, Uncle David's got a problem.' Mycroft closes his mouth before his reprimand can be spoken.

'Excuse us gentlemen, this seems to be a very important family emergency.'

'Not just family, Mycroft, it's complicated.'

'Our family normally is Sherlock.'

'Can we speak about this privately?'

'Of course.' Mycroft indicates for Sherlock to enter the office and to make way for the other men to leave. Sherlock obeys and the gentlemen take their leave from Mycroft and exit the office. Sherlock closes the door behind them.

'Have you had information from the police force today?'

'No.'

'There was a quadruple murder committed in Uncle David's London home.' Mycroft's jaw drops. 'I know. It's get worse. You remember the suits we gave him when he was appointed Commissioner?' Mycroft nods mutely. 'They've gone.' Mycroft's expression becomes stormy. 'Exactly. Plus his navy blue two-piece, the waistcoat from the three-piece from you is still there.'

'Is he harmed?'

'No, he went in after travelling all night from Mummy's. Aunt Ginny is staying with Mummy until it blows over.'

'Where's Uncle David staying? I've got space. I take it he prefer to stay in London.'

'He was expecting to stay with you.'

'Out of interest, why can't you take him?'

'He would be sleeping on the sofa.' Sherlock laughs.

'John and I have a small wager, I intend to win.' Mycroft raises an eyebrow. 'I'm not allowed to sleep on the sofa for three months. We are a month into the wager.'

'Sherlock, I take it he had given you carte blanche to work for the yard?' Sherlock nods in acquiescence. 'Then the government is also behind you.' Sherlock gives Mycroft a genuine smile.

'Thank you.' Sherlock turns to go.

'Sherlock?' Sherlock turns back to face his older brother. 'Thank you for coming to tell me yourself.' Sherlock leaves the office and as he strides away from the office he hears Mycroft tell Anthea to clear his schedule for the rest of the day and to organise a car.


	8. John Doctors Irene

Chapter 8

_7 September 2013 10:30am_

Irene lets herself through the front door of 221b Baker Street. She makes her way up the stairs slowly and carefully. She moves as if she was weary of the reception that she could get once she reaches the top of the stairs. She gingerly opens the door to the living room of the flat. She steps in and closes the door behind her. She leans against it in relief and rubs her abdomen, wincing. She rifles through her handbag to look for her phone. She pulls it out and scrolls through her sent messages folder. She reads what she had sent a few hours earlier. She sighs heavily and makes her way over to the couch and falls onto it lengthwise. She throws her arm over her eyes and lets a painful groan escape from her lips. Irene looks up at the bullets holes forming the smiley face above her and closes her eyes. Her entire body relaxes and she falls into a restless sleep.

Over the next couple of hours, Irene repeatedly wakes up from her doze with a start before glancing around the room and relaxing back to sleep. The door bangs open and John walks in and starts rummaging around the tables looking for some papers. Irene starts awake as the door opens. She watches John as he wonders around the flat searching. 'What are you looking for?' She mumbles. John turns and looks at her critically.

'What happened?'

'What makes you think something has happened?' Irene struggles to pull herself into a sitting position. In a flash, John is next to her helping her up. She bats him away.

'Irene, I'm a doctor.' She lets him help her sit up. She winces and lets out a pain filled breath. He raises the back of her top and gently prods her lower ribs and back muscles. He repeats with her front. 'Like I said, what happened?'

'Jim. What do you think?' She mutters. John grimaces, rolls his eyes and glances around the flat. He spots the papers he was looking for in the kitchen.

'I take it that he took umbrage because you said you wouldn't spy for him.'

'Something like that.' John stands and gently helps Irene to stand and walk though to Sherlock's bedroom. He settles her on the bed and returns to the kitchen to look for painkillers and icepacks. He finds them and helps Irene to find a comfortable position that lets her asleep with the minimum amount of pain. He leaves the room and is just about to close the door when Irene calls out to him.

'Don't tell Sherlock.' John sticks his head back in.

'Why?'

'Just don't. He doesn't need to know yet. Is he on a case?' John nods. 'Let him focus on that. He'll just worry.' John grins.

'He's been worrying about you since the two of you had dinner.' John closes the firmly but quietly cutting off the only light source and enfolding Irene with the dark having previously closed the curtains. In the kitchen, John grabs the papers needed and heads out of the flat.

Out in the street, the cab waits for John. He exits the flat with a bemused expression. He climbs into the cab, hands the papers to Sherlock and sits next to Lestrade thinking. He mentally shakes himself. 'Sherlock, Irene's up there.' Sherlock makes to go up but John restrains him. 'She's sleeping.' Sherlock resettles in his seat and looks up at the flat's windows. 'Sherlock, she will be fine without you for now.'

'Why did you take so long up there?'

'I couldn't find then.'

'They were on the coffee table.'

'No, Sherlock they weren't.'

'On the desk?'

'Nope.'

'Where then?

'Under the microwave.' Donovan snorts. 'Irene helped me find them.'

'You said she was asleep.'

'I said that she was asleep when I came down.'

'Stepney Park.' Sherlock shouts to the cabbie. The cab pulls away from the curb and merges into the flow of traffic.


	9. The Well Kept Holmes Secret

Chapter 9

_7 September 2013 19:30pm_

John and Lestrade walk into the restaurant that Irene and Sherlock had frequented the previous month. The maître d' greets them at the entrance and asks if they've got a reservation. John replies that Irene had reserved them a table. The maître d' leads them over to a discreet table and the two of them sit opposite each other. They both are handed menus and Lestrade also receives the wine list. John watches the maître d' walks through the rest of the restaurant floor. 'Are you sure Donovan will be fine when Sherlock re-engages with the world?'

'She'll be fine.' John replies 'Besides Irene's there to keep her company and to deflect any rage that might occur.' Lestrade doesn't seem convinced but the confidence of his friend and partner causes him to relax. He smiles and John smiles back in response.

'Who's going to pay for us then?'

'Have you decided on your drinks gentlemen?' The wine waiter arrives at their table and interrupting the conversation.

'A bottle of Barbera, any vintage.' John tells him. Lestrade gapes at him. The waiter leaves to retrieve the bottle and Lestrade schools his expression to an inquisitive and intrigued one. 'Living with an obnoxious genius does have its advantages.' John glances around the restaurant. 'Sherlock and Mycroft co-own a couple of vineyards in France, Italy and Spain. They grow a lot of grapes for wine. During Sherlock's disappearance Mycroft dragged me to visit them when I…' John trails off. Lestrade nods knowing exactly what John is hesitant to say. The wine waiter returns bearing a bottle, he uncorks it and pours a sliver into one of the glasses giving it to John for sampling. John does using the techniques he was taught by the elder Holmes. He glances at the bottle. 'Very good, may I see the bottle?' the waiter gives the bottle to John who glances at the label. He smiles and turns it towards Lestrade, who looks at the label but is unsure what he should be seeing.

'What?' John shifts his finger to the address of the vineyard's owner 'Oh.' Lestrade chuckles.

'I know. It's good thanks.' He returns the bottle to the waiter who fills their wine glasses and disappears taking the wine list with him. John takes a small mouthful from his glass and swallows.

'This is definitely blackmail material.'

'Detective Inspector, what are you saying?' John has a mock-astonished tone but his sparkling eyes betray his enthusiasm. Lestrade grins.

'Just when he withholds important evidence.'

'Like the pink case.'

'Like the pink case.' Lestrade agrees. A senior waiter appears to take their food orders. 'What does Irene recommend?'

'For us, the sirloin.'

'Who's paying?' The hovering waiter steps forward and interjects.

'Miss Adler says it's on her.' John chuckles and shakes his head.

'We'll have the sirloin steak please. Rare for me.' John orders for the both of them.

'Medium rare.' Lestrade supplies. 'And whitebait to start.' They give the waiter their menus and watch him walk away. Lestrade sighs heavily and closes his eyes.

'It's been a long day.' John mutters.

'I'm glad Sherlock decided to go to his… his what?'

'His mind palace, just a memory technique.'

'And he still deletes?'

'Guess he just doesn't want to clutter it up.' John comments and the two of them chuckle.

'But it gave us an opportunity to escape.' Lestrade pauses musing. 'Irene and Sherlock.'

'Yeah. The night I realised it was serious between the two of them. It was morning really. She was in the kitchen and made tea for all three of us. She took Sherlock's to him before sitting opposite me and asking very personal questions.' John takes a larger mouthful of wine and luckily their starters arrived allowing the subject of conversation to change.

Nearly three hours later, John and Lestrade leave the restaurant slightly tipsier than they otherwise would be. A sleek black car draws up beside them and the door opens. Mycroft sits there watching the pair of them. 'John, Greg, would you like a lift to Baker Street?' John turns at the sound of Mycroft's voice. He looks blearily at the government official. The two of them climb into the car. The car drives off to take Lestrade and John back to Baker Street.


	10. Donovan Confesses

Chapter 10

_7 September 2013 21:00pm_

Sherlock resurfaces from his mind palace to the smell of Chinese food wafting through the flat from the kitchen. He blearily looks around to locate the smell. He rubs his eyes feeling tired, withdrawn and bone weary. He keeps his eyes closed as grimaces and pulls himself to his feet. 'Oh he's back.' Irene's voice penetrates the fog of his brain.

'But does he want some food?' Donovan's voice joins Irene's. Sherlock opens his eyes and looks over at the two women eating from takeout containers. Sherlock weaves his way towards the kitchen and the food. He slumps down on the seat next to Irene and bangs his head on the table.

'Anything useful in that hard drive of a brain?' She asks nudging him. Sherlock shakes his head.

'Something I thought never happens. Sherlock Holmes admitting defeat.' Donovan comments sarcastically. He raises his head and glares at her.

'I'm not admitting defeat-'

'Right yeah course I believe you.'

'I just can't think straight.' Sherlock carries on, as she has never interrupted. 'Why Uncle David? Why couldn't have it been someone else? It would have been easier.'

'You're too emotional Sherlock.' Donovan remarks as Irene rubs his back.

'Too right I'm emotional,' he snaps at her. 'The only person in the world not blood related who actually thought that I was a unique child and that the talents should be nurtured. So yeah, sorry for feeling emotional.' Sherlock stands abruptly and storms to his room. At the door he turns to look at the two women. 'I would have though you wanted be to be more _human_.' As he speaks the word "human" he makes quotation marks with his finger in the air. He turns back and slams the door to his room. Irene cringes.

'He's got a point Sergeant Donovan.' Irene speaks uncharacteristically quietly and smoothly. 'You taunt him for compartmentalising his emotions at crime scenes then imply that he's being for too emotional when I guess one of the few people who actually liked him as a child is hurt.'

'But the Commissioner wasn't hurt.'

'Not physically but he was mentally. It was his nephew who was killed.' Donovan nods. 'That death hurt Commissioner Parker. Sherlock's hurting because Parker's hurting.' Irene stands and walks to the fridge. 'I thought you wanted to have him more human.'

'Not if it means he's breaking down.' Donovan sighs. 'Do you think he's listening?'

'Very probably.' Irene turns away from the open fridge and looks at Sergeant Donovan. 'Why?'

'I'm really going to regret saying this.' Irene closes the fridge and leans against it.

'I only taunt him to hide my jealousy.'

'Jealousy at what?' Irene strings it out

'You're going to make me say it aren't you?'

'Yep.' Donovan groans and Irene's smile grows

'My jealousy at his talents, at the fact he can make the connections that elude us, that he can get places and information we can't, and that he doesn't get bogged down in all that paperwork.' She glares at Irene's smiling face. 'If he was, I don't know, a little easier to talk to at times.'

'Like when he isn't on a case.'

'Exactly. And, maybe, if he stops insulting our intelligence every time we met.'

'Maybe you should cut down on calling him a freak.'

'But he acts like one.'

'He was home-schooled for eight years, went into boarding school and was bullied constantly because he hadn't been able to learn the necessary social skills being kept home and not allowed to play with other kids. None being nearby.' Irene snorts in amusement. 'You think he's eccentric you should meet his parents. Compared to them, he's positively normal.'

'How do you know them?'

'Mutual friends I was invited to this dance. Completely boring but I introduced to them by my escort and they livened up the evening for me.' The two of them gravitate towards the sitting room and turn on the television.

After they had watched the TV for an hour and a half or so Sherlock remerges from his room and joins them. He shoos Irene out of his chair and slumps in it himself. Sensing an opportunity Irene folds herself into his lap. He wraps his arms around her and she snuggles into him. Donovan raises an eyebrow. Sherlock ignores her but Irene smiles winningly. 'Any luck?' she whispers into his chest.

'No.' He mutters back.

'There's some Chinese in the fridge if you want some.' Irene feels Sherlock nod against the back of her head. She bats his hands open and climbs off him.

'He can get it himself.' Donovan protests. Irene shrugs and walks into the kitchen and retrieves the plate she had made up for him.

'Is there anything in the microwave?' She calls through remembering the warning John had given her.

'No.' Sherlock replies. A couple of minutes later Irene hands Sherlock a warm plate piled high with Chinese food and a fork. Irene settles into John's chair and watches as Sherlock digs in and virtually demolishes the entire plateful.

'Hungry?' she asks him humorously. He nods

'I should argue with you more often.' The three of them hear a car pull up in the street outside. Irene rises and moves to the window.

'John and Greg seem to be rather merry.' She comments watching as Mycroft lifts John's key from his pocket and guides them into the flat. They burst into the flat laughing riotously. They manage to pull themselves together but Lestrade catches sight of Sherlock and starts laughing again. John manages not to laugh, preferring to execute a jaw-breaking yawn instead. The two of them collapse onto the sofa next to Donovan. Mycroft lowers himself into John's chair.

'I don't know what's got them into this state.'

'Believe it or not, we're not drunk.' Lestrade finally manages to control his mirth. The Brothers Holmes both snort in disbelief. 'We're not.' He protests.

'We shared a bottle and a half of a rather fine Barbera vintage from the middle of Italy.' John comments looking covertly at Mycroft, who watches at him out of the corner of his eye. John grins. 'I think he knows what we're on about.' He mutters to Lestrade.

'Yeah I think so to.' Lestrade goes to stand up.

'Oughtn't you stay here in case of a break though?' Mycroft asks him.

'Fair point.'

'Mycroft I don't have the room.'

'Brother, are you being deliberately obtuse?' Sherlock frowns then his expression clears. 'Absolutely.' John heaves himself off the sofa and pulls Lestrade up as well. Together they make their way up the stairs to John's room. Sherlock looks over at Irene then across to Donovan.

'You tow share my room.' Donovan looks hesitant. 'There's nothing to worry you in there Sergeant. Go and get some rest.' Irene smiles and kisses Sherlock on the crown of his head much to his dismay. She heads to the allocated room.

'Come on Sally, there really is nothing to worry about.'

'Fresh clothes?'

'My assistant is bringing fresh clothes for you, Irene and Greg for several nights. Just in case.' Donovan relents and follows Irene to Sherlock's room. Mycroft waits for the door to shut before turning back to Sherlock. 'Uncle David wants a word with both of us privately ASAP. I know it's not about the case and he wants you to have eaten before you get there.' Irene sidles up behind Mycroft. She reaches past him and picks up her phone.

'Forgot my phone. Lockie, dear pass me your plate.' He does. 'He ate all this.' She rotates the plate slightly. She carries it to the kitchen and re-enters the bedroom. Mycroft raises an eyebrow at Sherlock.

'What? I was hungry.' Mycroft rises.

'Come on Uncle David is expecting us.'


	11. Teasing Sherlock

**Chapter 11**

_8 September 2013 07:15am_

Sherlock ascends the seventeen steps towards the main living area of 221b Baker Street. He enters and looks around at the empty living room and kitchen area. He grimaces. He picks up one of the bags in each hand and walks through the flat to his bedroom door. He places the bags just outside the door and returns to the living area. He picks up the final bag and carries it up the stairs to John's room. He returns to the living room and picks up his violin. He wanders over to the window. He places the violin to his shoulder and chin beginning to play. Loudly. Within minutes he can hear grumbling from the top of the stairs. 'SHUT THAT DAMN THING UP!' John's voice barrels down the stairs. Sherlock smiles as he continues playing. Irene slips out of his bedroom, steps over the bags at the door and creeps over towards Sherlock. She slaps him on the back of his head jolting the violin off his shoulder.

'That will do.' She tells him firmly Sherlock smirks at her.

'Fulfilled its purpose.' He remarks smoothly as she glares at him. She turns on her heels and strides back to the bedroom, picking up hers and Donovan's bags as she goes. Sherlock packs the violin away and sits in his chair tow wait for the four of them to finish dragging themselves out of their bed and to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock is still alone in the living room and is just debating whether he should risk playing the violin again when Irene and Donovan emerge from his bedroom and sit down at the table obviously avoiding him. A couple of minutes later John and Lestrade walk down the stairs and though the living room and into the kitchen. 'Tea, ladies?' John asks as he fills the kettle.

'Please.' The two of them reply simultaneously. Lestrade retrieves several mugs before finding four clean ones.

'How do you take it Donovan?'

'Milk, two.' John glances at all the filthy mugs.

'Sherlock, when will you wash up?' He growls quietly to himself. The other three in the kitchen chuckle at his comment. The kettle boils and John pours water into all four mugs. John passes Irene and Sherlock their mugs before leaning against the counter with Lestrade.

'John?' Sherlock's voice floats over form the living room. John ignores it. 'John?' Sherlock's tone morphs into a whinging tone. 'John?'

'What?' John doesn't attempt to hide his grievances.

'What were you and Lestrade laughing about last night?'

'Got your notebook?' Lestrade takes his little copper's notebook from his pocket and John grabs a pen from the counter top while placing his mug of tea on the counter. He scribbles something in the book and shows it to the women. They burst out laughing.

'Seriously?' Donovan asks as she regains control of herself. John nods, tears out the page and the next one on, folds them up and pickpockets Lestrade lighter. 'I thought you'd stopped.' He admonishes Lestrade.

'I have.' Lestrade protests. John lights the papers and makes sure all the writing is burnt before dropping the burning paper to the counter top.

'Well?' John picks his teacup up again.

'You're a genius. Work it out.' John swirls the liquid in his mug around and pretends to sniff it.

'Mycroft can't work it out either.'

'For a pair of geniuses, you two aren't half stupid.' Lestrade remarks repeating John's actions with his tea. In the living room Sherlock's eyes narrow watching the pair of men in the kitchen. Lestrade puts his hand out for his lighter and notebook. John returns the notebook but keeps the lighter. 'But that's mine.'

'You said you had quit.' John counters. 'I'm keeping it.' Sherlock smirks at Lestrade's pouting expression.

'Shouldn't you be having a meeting today Lestrade?' Sherlock asks from his chair.

'Nope, all meetings cancelled so I can concentrate with you.'

'_All_ off them?'

'Parker?' John reminds him. 'Commissioner Parker wanted a word with you about…' John tilts his head in Sherlock's direction.

'Shit.' Lestrade glances at the clock. 'I'd better go and see him now.' Lestrade gulps down the rest of his lukewarm tea. He dashes back up the stairs to John's room and collects his coat. He returns back to the living room. 'I'll let you now when we've finished.'

'We'll let you know our location whenever we move.' John tells him. Lestrade dashes out of the door. Sherlock watches him. He pulls a few papers from his pocket and walks into the kitchen. He gives one each to Donovan and John. Irene watches it all unfold. She looks at Sherlock's face.

'I guess you want me to do something else.' She remarks. Sherlock dips into a different pocket and pulls out a third piece of paper. He hands it to her. She reads it and looks up at him with sparkling eyes.

'Yes I thought you would like that.'


	12. Jim And Dimmock Join The Gang

**Chapter 12**

_8 September 2013 10:45am_

Irene lets herself back into her house in one of the affluent parts of London. 'Amy?' She calls closing the front door behind her. She walks forward in the hall and Amy appears from the sitting room. Irene freezes at the scared expression on the maid's face. She marches past the terrified girl and into the room. 'Jimmy.' she greets him with a completely false smile.

'You ran to lover boy.' Jim replies. Irene glares at him standing defensively

'You decided it was fun to have your _stooges _beat me up.' Jim opens his mouth to defend his actions. 'And no Sherlock did not treat me. John did.' Jim sneers at the mention of the army doctor. Irene forces herself to relax her stance. 'Fortunately for you, Sherlock doesn't know.'

'Not even when you slept with him?'

'He's on a case. He doesn't sleep.' Irene settles herself onto the sofa. 'What do you want Jim?

'You know what I want.' He stands and walks over to Irene. He leans in crowding her. 'And you know what I would do to get It.' he leans back suddenly, a thought occurring to him. 'Is his case the quadruple murder at the Commissioner of police's house?'

'Yes.' Irene replies cautiously. Jim retakes his seat in the chair facing away from the window. 'Why?'

'Have the victims been identified?'

'Why?' Irene's tone is more curious than cautious.

'Is this going back to the detective?'

'More than likely.'

'Have they?'

'As far as I know only one has.'

'Was one of them mutilated and decapitated?' Irene shrugs. 'One should have multiple cuts down the chest bone, and another should have various cuts all over the body.' Jim grimaces. 'Aaaaaand one should be poisoned. But may or may not be tortured as well.' Jim pulls a disgusted face. 'Talk about overkill, even I'm not that bad.'

'So this ones aren't yours?'

'My victims are bombed, shot, tortured, stabbed, beaten, poisoned or exploded. Not a mixture.'

'And you know who it is?' Jim laughs with out humour.

'Like I would tell you.' Irene inspects her nails.

'Would you want to risk having someone trying to take your empire away from you?'

'You scheming little devil.'

'Thank you.'

'But you haven't confirmed whether I was right or not.'

'Stay quiet then.' Irene takes out her phone and dials Sherlock's mobile number.

'Irene, get off the line I'm busy-'

'The four victims were treated differently weren't they?'

'Go on.' Sherlock says carefully.

'One was poisoned, two had multiple cuts down the breastbone, three had slashes all over and four was decapitated and mutilated.' Jim sneers at the confirmation.

'How do you know?' Suspicion laces Sherlock's voice.

'Our darling _friend,_ wanted to attempt to persuade me.'

'Is he still there?'

'Yes.' Jim replies for her.

'You want to help?' scorn is evident in Sherlock's tone of voice.

'Do you want two empires around?'

'It would be more fun to clear up both.' Jim snorts.

'No it wouldn't. It would be boring. The police would be able to clear everything up without needing you.' A click is heard as Sherlock aborts the call. 'I think that means I win.'

'Really?' Irene asks him. 'I think that's him marshalling the troops and coming here.' A text alert sounds on Irene's phone. She reads it and grins. 'I was right.'

Ten minutes later the doorbell rings and Irene's maid answers the door. Irene leaves the sitting room to greet the people at the door. 'Inspector Lestrade, welcome to my humble abode.'

'Humble?' Lestrade chuckles. 'Are you sure about that Irene?' Lestrade enters the hours leading another man behind him. The two of them hand their coats to Amy and follow Irene into the sitting room. She pauses before the door.

'Did Sherlock say anything about why you had to come here?'

'He said something about an unpleasant surprise for police officers.' Irene giggles.

'Personally, I think he would love to be called that.'

'Not Moriarty?'

'Problem Inspector?' Jim's asks from his chair.

'Apart from the fact you have organised the killing of several people, threatened John, tried to make Sherlock kill himself, kidnapped innocent children, and broke into several high security venues, no not really.' Lestrade mutters sarcastically. 'When's Sherlock getting here?'

'He'll be here in about ten minutes. Tea?'

'Please. Dimmock?'

'Please.' DI Dimmock speaks for the first time. Amy retreats from the sitting room to make the tea for everyone.

'How was the Commissioner?' Irene asks Lestrade.

'Let's put it this way. If anyone insults Sherlock while in the vicinity of the yard then god help them. I certainly won't be.'

'Says the man who's getting a raise because he put up with the sociopath from the beginning.'

'How do you know that?'

'I was in accounting when the Commissioner came in to update your wage packet and to find me.' Lestrade looks interested and amused.

'Of course, I don't know about that.' They laugh and Amy enters bearing a tea tray she sets it on the coffee table in the centre of the room. The sound of the front door opening floats into the sitting room followed by the voices belonging to Donovan and Sherlock.

'You shouldn't be picking locks.'

'I have to keep my hand in. Besides, my uncle gave me Carte blanche remember?'

'To pick the locks of your girlfriend's house?'

'Irene doesn't care. She does it to me all the time.' his voice rises. 'At least I don't break the window locks.' Sherlock opens the door to the living room and stares at Irene who returns the gazes just as intently. She glances at Jim causing Sherlock to shift his gaze towards Jim.

'Hello Sherlock.' Jim greets him in his singsong voice. Sherlock steps away from the door to allow Donovan and John to enter the room.

'What do want James?' Sherlock asks.

'To help.'

'Why?' John asks.

'Can't I give an offer to help Britain's finest without an ulterior motive?

'Umm…. No.' Sherlock states categorically. Jim takes out his phone and looked though the various menus and folders.

'I noticed a very beautiful suit the day before yesterday. Obviously tailored but not for the person wearing it.' Jim tosses the phone to Sherlock who looks at the picture on the screen.

'Who are they?' Jim smirks refusing to answer. 'Jim, who are they?'

'Former employees of mine.'

'Nice and vague, thank you James.' Jim Moriarty glares at Sherlock.

'When I say former I mean current but acting under their own steam. Disobeying orders.' Jim leans forward and puts on simpering tone. 'Lockie, Lockie, Lockie, do you _really_ think I would actively order a ruddy excuse of a _being_ to perpetrate a quad-murder in your uncle's home.' Jim sighs. 'I thought you knew me Lockie. How is a quad-murder playing my kind of game?'

'Your kind of game? Since when was murder, multiple murder at that, a game?' Dimmock is astounded.

'Seriously, Inspector? You're asking a self-proclaimed sociopath and a self-proclaimed psychopath about not making murder into a game.' Irene leans forward engaging Dimmock's full attention. 'the thing you need to know about James Seamus Moriarty is that everything is a game to him. We are all chess pieces in his hands. Except when something or someone with intelligence like Sherlock and Mycroft-'

'And yourself Miss Adler dear.' Jim and Sherlock interject simultaneously.

'-okay and myself, comes in and interrupts everything he has carefully planned therefore drawing his interest. Thereby, starting the game.' She leans back 'everything is just one big game of cat and mouse… or rather Lockie and Jimmy's case, two tom cats. Understand?' Dimmock shakes his head. Lestrade claps him on the back.

'Don't worry mate, most of us mortals don't.' Sherlock's eyes light up.

'Go on spill.'


	13. The Brigadier?

**Chapter 13**

_8 September 2013 11:30am_

John, Lestrade, Irene and Donovan sit on the train as it rattles along the track away from London. The two men sit on the opposite side of the table from the other two in the first class carriage. Conveniently, or not as the case may be, the rest of the tables around them in the carriage are empty ensuring that no one can accidently hear anything about the case. 'Remind me again why we're leaving London.' Donovan mutters.

'Moriarty told us that one of the suspects is a civilian worker on a military base.' John replies.

'And you believe him?' She scoffs

'No, but the best lies always have a kernel of truth.' He tells her patiently.

'Still doesn't tell me why I'm here.'

'Donovan and Greg will be interviewing the suspect while you act as my secretary on a site inspection. I believe Sherlock wants all eyes on you.' John runs his eyes over Irene's outfit. 'Which should happen automatically.' Greg leans his head on John's shoulder possessively.

'Oi, you shouldn't be looking.' He murmurs in John's ear.

'I know I'm yours, no need to fret.' John whispers back before kissing Greg's temple.

'Wake me up when we're nearly there.' Greg closes his eyes and falls asleep almost instantly.

'You two didn't get enough sleep last night then?' Irene asks eyebrows raised.

'Not easy to sleep two in my bed at baker street. It's a single masquerading as a queen-sized.' John rubs his eyes sleepily. Irene reaches across the table and squeezes a pressure point on John's neck. 'Hey!' he protests.

'We need you to stay awake.' John's phone text alert beeps preventing him from retorting. He reads it and chuckles.

'Wine.'

'What?'

'Sherlock. He's just sent me a text simply saying wine.'

'What is he on about?' Another text comes into John's phone.

'Mycroft showed you our vineyards.' John reads the text aloud.

'Took your time.' he speaks as he types into his phone. 'Plus your girlfriend's favourite restaurant stocks your Barbera.'

'Does it?'

'The Criterion? Yeah, Greg and I had a bottle of it last night.' The next half hour of the train journey passes in a comfortable silence. The train pulls into a station still an hour or so from their current destination. John spots one of Mycroft's men on the platform. The two of them make eye contact and the train halts john makes his way swiftly to the train door after gently moving Greg's head from his shoulder. Irene watches as john converses quietly with the nameless man. She spots him hand John some paperwork and step back as the door closes. The train judders and starts to moves as John makes his way back to his seat. He retakes his seat and moves Greg's head back to his shoulder. He sorts through the paperwork and separates it into a pile for the police officers and a pile for him and Irene. He gently shakes Greg awake.

'We there?' he asks groggily.

'No but we've got new intel.' Greg rubs his eyes.

'How long?'

'You've been out about half an hour. We've got forty minutes or so until we reach the stop where we change.'

'We need to split?'

'ASAP.' Irene confirms. 'We're being met at this change. At least John and I are.' John pushes the paperwork for the officers along the table to Lestrade.

'We are to.' Lestrade looks at the top document on his pile. 'Corporal Jeremy Holt.'

'Not the same, we've got Lieutenant David Lough.' John slides a wallet sized leather case across to Irene. 'Your ID Irene, and mine.' He huffs a laugh. 'I've been promoted. Brigadier.'

'Explains why you have a secretary.' Greg comments. Donovan stands to let Irene out. John kisses Greg on the lips before sliding out and moving with Irene to a different table a discreet distance away. John and Greg sit so they can still see each other clearly. All four of them scan their paperwork to keep themselves abreast of the situations.

Four hours later, John and Irene follow their guide into one of the firing ranges on site. John politely scans the large room feeling that their guide to the base is trying o distract them from something. Irene leans forward and whispers in his ear so quietly he almost misses it. 'He's only showing us the facilities not the logistics.' John listens to their guide for a couple more moments before interrupting the monologue.

'It's all very interesting Lieutenant. But I believe the request was for the personnel not the amenities.' John's tone is condescending even if the words are not. The Lieutenant stares openly at John. He had previously been wondering how the shorter man had made it to Brigadier but at those few words he understands entirely. He made the mistake of underestimating him.

'Yes sir.' Irene smirks at the abrupt change in demeanour of the more junior officer and the two of them are led back to the main administration block. And Lieutenant Lough offers them the use of his office for John and Irene's admin investigation. They requested the files of various people working on the base both military and civilian and including the file of their chief suspect. As Lough collects them personally John instructs Irene to notes down a list of questions both innocuous and loaded. She nods and creates the list to ask each individual as she goes through each of the files.

Over the course of the day Irene and John interview all the staff whose personnel files they had requested. John glances at his watch as the last interviewee leaves the office. Lieutenant David Lough knocks and enters the office. John ignores him. 'Have we all that we need Miss Davidson?'

'Yes sir, and more.' Irene replies demurely. John strokes his chin in a thoughtful manner. He turns to the lieutenant.

'One of the civilian staff was rather agitated, why would that be?'

'He was interviewed by a couple of police officers from London sir.' Lough replies simply. 'I gather they gave a rather rough time.' Irene raises her eyebrows but John doesn't give any hint of emotion.

'They are?'

'A Detective Inspector Lestrade and Sergeant Sally Donovan.'

'Have they left?'

'No sir.'

'Get them.' Lough turns and leaves.

'Is that wise?'

'We need to collate evidence. Simmonds is getting ready to run.' John murmurs. David Lough re-enters the office followed by Lestrade, Donovan and Holt. John ignores them. 'Dismissed.' Holt and Lough about turns and exit the room. Lestrade raises his eyebrows.

'Impressive.' He huffs.

'How did you find Simmons?'

'Evasive to say the least, he did not want to answer our questions.'

'Nor ours. We only asked about his duties and hours.' A knock sounds on the door. John raises his eyebrows and indicates that Irene should open the door. 'Enter.' Lough obeys. John glares at the lieutenant.

'There is a message for the Inspector. Sir.'

'Where is it?' Lough hesitates. 'Well?' John barks holding his hand out palm up. Lough hands the message to John who passes it straight to Lestrade. Lough turns to go but hesitates again. 'What is it Lieutenant?' John barks again frustrated.

'There's…' Lough swallows. 'There's another for you Sir.'

'Where is it?'

'Well?' Lough swallows again. John gets even more frustrated. 'Where is it? What it say?'

'It's more of a verbal message.' Lough glances at Lestrade.

'Spit it out Lieutenant Lough.'

'You are to escort DI Lestrade and DS Donovan back to London by helicopter.'

'From?'

'Whitehall.'


	14. Jimmy's Archive Palace

**Chapter 14**

_8 September 2013 12:00pm_

Sherlock, Jim and Dimmock walk through Trafalgar Square, pushing past any pedestrian getting in their way. Sherlock strides just in front of the other two. Jim smirks as he follows his arch-nemesis turned ally. Dimmock walks just behind trying to keep both of the others in his sights at the same time. Watching Jim out of the corner of his eye he nearly walks into a lamppost. Jim smirks. 'You might want to actually look where you're going Inspector.'

'Shut up Jim. Do as he says Dimmock.' Sherlock states not turning round.

'Whatever.' Dimmock mutters. He speaks up. 'Where are we going?'

'Jimmy's archive palace.'

'Palace?' Jim scowls

'Yeah, what about it?' Jim's tone is defensive. Sherlock smirks and stops outside a nondescript building.

'How do you know about this place?'

'It's only my sub-library.'

'It's what I need.' Sherlock kneels and picks the lock with too much ease for Jim's liking. The door swings open and Sherlock leads the others in. Jim pushes in front of Sherlock.

'Which room?'

'Your personnel.'

'This way.' Jim growls. He walks off down the corridors navigating them with ease. Dimmock catches Sherlock by the sleeve stopping him. Sherlock looks down at his arm. Jim disappears around a corner. Dimmock lets go.

'Why you pick the lock?'

'Why shouldn't I?'

'You have just let Jim open it.'

'Boring.' Jim reappears around the corner.

'Are you coming or not?' Sherlock strides down the corridor leaving Dimmock behind. The police officer looks after the detective before walking after him. Jim leads the trio on the quickest route from the door they entered to the where Jim keeps all his personnel files of the insignificant lackeys he barely knows the names for. Jim stops outside the door. He places his hand on the handle. He turns to face Sherlock. 'I don't actually know the system of filing in the room. I couldn't really care less about

'Who handles it then?' Dimmock asks incredulously over Sherlock's snort of derision.

'Sebastian Moran, his second in command, and yes I do know it was you who sprang him.'

'Colonel Sebastian Moran, first class, 279643, retired April 2005.' A voice says from behind the three of them. Dimmock spins.

'Yes, thank you, Sebastian.' Jim speaks not turning round. Noticing that Sherlock wasn't surprised.

'Surprised that I'm not are we Jimmy?' Sherlock smiles with uncharacteristic sweetness. Jim refuses to answer. Sherlock turns his head to look at Moran. 'I would have thought a trained sniper would be able to move on his home territory with the slightest hint of sound. I heard you the moment we stepped in the door.'

'Would you please turn off the alarm before the gas starts to blow Sebastian?' Moran hesitates. 'That would be now. These two won't hurt me. They need me.' Sherlock mutters something unintelligible under his breath. 'And yes, Lockie dear, you do need me.'

'And while you're at it Moran, turn off the phone cancelling signal. Jim just open the damn door.' Jim opens the door. Sherlock pushes past him and scans the relatively large room. 'Neat, military neat, not as tidy as John's room though.' Moran stays on the other side of the threshold. Jim scowls.

'Sebby dear, you have three minutes, twenty four seconds to get over to the alarm box and TURN THE DAMN THING OFF!' Sebastian bolts down the corridor.

'Classy.' Sherlock remarks sarcastically. 'Wouldn't have worked on John though.'

'Why not.'

'He'd say, do it yourself or don't be so lazy.'

'Who are we looking for?'

'The files have pictures?'

'Of course.' Sherlock pickpockets Jim with ease taking the consulting criminal's phone. He hacks into the computer in the middle of the room and connects the phone to the computer.

'Jimmy darling, would you turn the projector on please?' Jim scowls but grabs a remote to power up the projector hanging from the ceiling. 'We are looking for either of these two.' Two images from Jim's phone lie side by side on the projector screen. Each one is a shot from a CCTV camera. 'Jim you take that side. Dimmock, that one. I'll take the far end.'

'And the cabinets on the door wall?'

'Moran can, when he comes back.'

An hour later, both Sherlock and Jim have finished two of their allotted filing cabinets while Dimmock is on the last drawer of his first. Moran steps back into the room. He smirks at Jim going through the dusty paperwork, but quickly wipes it from his face when Jim glances over. 'Help us.' Jim says simply nodding at the cabinets on the wall on each side of the wall. Moran looks at the projections before striding over to the fourth cabinet on Jim's wall. He opens the second drawer, digs through the files stuffed in, pulls one out and lays it on top before closing the drawer. He strides across the room to the cabinet Dimmock has just started going through the top drawer and removing one from near the back. He lays that on top of the cabinet.

'Looking for those two.' Dimmock and Jim grab the respective files and flick through them.

'Four people were involved.' Sherlock states plainly, clearly issuing a challenge. Moran and Sherlock lock gazes. Sebastian strides over to the cabinet which would have been the last for Sherlock to look through picks out a file from the bottom drawer and places it on top. Before darting over to the cabinet right next to the open door and retrieving a file from the second drawer. From the top of the final cabinet he takes a couple of small bulldog clips and secures the file so nothing can fall out. He frisbees it to the table with the computer. Moran smirks at Sherlock, who ignores him and collects all four files. 'Dimmock,' he mutters, 'how would you like to visit The House of Power?'

'The house of power?' Dimmock queries not quite saying it the way Sherlock does.

'He means parliament.' Jim retorts. Sherlock looks up from the files.

'Actually I don't.'

'Westminster?'

'No.'

'Buckingham Palace?'

'No.'

'Downing Street?'

'No.'

'Tower of London?'

'No. Give up Jim?'

'Never.'

'Go on Holmes, where?' Moran intercedes.

'Bexley.'

'Bexley?'

'Bexley.'

'Why Bexley?' Sherlock snaps the files shut.

'You'll see. You don't mind if I borrow these do you?'


	15. Mummy Holmes

_A/N: Translations in this chapter are immediately after the Latin phrases and highlighted in italics, bold and underlined and are in brackets for ease of reading._

**Chapter 15**

_8 September 2013 2:00pm_

Sherlock, Moran, Dimmock and Jim climb out of the cab and look up at the house. Sherlock smirks at the expressions of the other three. 'How is this "The House of Power"?' Jim asks incredulously. Sherlock doesn't answer but strides to the door motioning the others to stay with the cab. He knocks in a peculiar rhythm before ringing the doorbell twice. 'Bist Du Bei Mir.' Jim uses. Sherlock glances over his shoulder.

'Huh?'

'The rhythm. Opening ten bars of Bist Du Bei Mir by Bach.' Sherlock's ring tone starts.

'Open the door… please. Oh please. What? Why? I need your help.'

'I _really_ want to see the person who reduces Sherlock Holmes to begging.' Dimmock murmurs. 'I thought Sherlock Holmes never begged.'

'Please!'

'Look up. Right above the door.' Moran tells them. They look up and see an elderly lady watching Sherlock beg over the phone to her with a smirk. 'We now know why it's the house of power.' Dimmock and Jim giggle. Sherlock glances at them.

'Mummy, _please_.'

'Mummy?' Dimmock splutters, staring up at the window. The woman winks at him and disappears.

'Mummy? Mummy.' Sherlock scowls. 'She hung up. I know for a fact Mycroft has never been here.' He returns to the taxi and leans on the side.

'You are such a child, Lockie.' Jim cheerfully mocks the detective.

'You can't talk, Jimmy.' The door opens and Sherlock's head rises. 'Mummy?'

'Lock dear, it is really easy wind you up. In.' Sherlock beams and leads the four of them inside.

'Yes Mummy.'

Once the four men are settled inside the spacious living room. Sherlock's mother enters bearing a tea tray. She immediately gives one of the mugs to Sherlock and looks inquiringly at Dimmock. 'Milk, one please.' She adjusts her gaze to the Colonel.

'No thanks.'

'Take it Moran. Don't insult my mother.'

'Just milk thanks.' Moran accepts the cup.

'Milk, three, thank you Mrs Holmes.' Jim uses his most courteous manner.

'Please call me, Isolde. All three of you.'

'Quod unus est vestri amicus Sherlock?' _**(Which one is your friend?)**_

'He's not here.'

'Quisnam es illa populous?' _**(Who are these people?)**_

'Socius nemesis verto socius quod nemesis' secundus.' _**(Ally, nemesis turned ally and nemesis' second.)**_

'Why?'

'You heard about Uncle David?'

'They're leading you to the culprits.' All of them are silent for a few moments before Isolde Holmes rises to her feet. 'Lock, upstairs.' Sherlock reluctantly follows her. Dimmock, Moran and Jim sit nervously in the living room. Sherlock sticks his head back on and tosses the remote into Moran's lap. He picks it up and turns the TV on. Jim grabs the remote off Moran and switches for his favourite channel.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom Isolde sits Sherlock on the bed and stands towering above him regardless of her slight height. 'Who are they?'

'DI Dimmock is in my opinion the second best Detective Inspector in Scotland Yard. Jim is my nemesis but we need to each other to get the criminals who desecrated Uncle David's home.'

'And Moran?'

'Jim's second in command, tried to take a pot shot at John and Mycroft.'

'Jim Moriarty?'

'He is Moriarty.' Sherlock confirms. Isolde sits down next to her son. 'I don't want to work along side him, Mummy, but at the moment I have no choice.'

'Are you sure you do what you're doing?'

'I'm keeping him near me.'

'What do you need?'

'Some of your contacts. Letters of introduction and such.' Isolde hugs Sherlock.

'Be careful.' A reoccurring beep comes from the kitchen. 'Perfect timing. When was the last time you eat? I don't care if you are on a case.'

'Last night. My girlfriend made me eat some Chinese.'

Sherlock re-enters the living room and sprawls in an armchair steeples his fingers under his chin. 'Where's Isolde?' Sherlock turns his head and peers at Dimmock.

'Huh? Oh, kitchen. She loves to cook.'

'What's she making?'

'Stew, casserole, cake, tarts. She makes everything and anything.' Sherlock sniffs the air. 'Smells like jam tarts, victoria sponge and chocolate torte today.' Sherlock tilts his head back. 'Mummy? Is there any of the chilli sponge left?'

'No, your brother finished it at the manor.'

'Fat git, it's my favourite.'

'Don't be rude. It's his favourite too.' Isolde admonishes Sherlock as she carries cake into the living room. She picks up one of the plates and slides two fresh jam tarts and a slice of chocolate torte onto the plate before passing it to Sherlock. He inhales the aroma before stuffing a tart into his mouth. 'Sherlock, manners.' He swallows.

'Jim'll have the same as me. The other two will be staying to help you Mummy.'

'No Moran stays with me.'

'Jim, come with me.' Sherlock puts his plate on his chair and strides out of the room. Jim follows carrying his plate.

'Take his plate will you?' Jim nods and picks up Sherlock's plate. 'He'll be in the kitchen. Just follow your nose.' She turns to Moran. 'What would you like dear?'

'A selection please.'

'The same for me please.' Dimmock says.

In the kitchen, Jim stands opposite Sherlock. Sherlock glances at the second oven. He sniffs the air. 'Lamb tagine.' Jim sniffs the air. 'Mummy? How long does the lamb have?'

'An hour or so.'

'I thought you never ate.'

'I don't. John likes lamb stew and wants to explore various ways of cooking it.'

'But…'

'I want the most protection I can put on my mother I can without being obvious that there is protection.' Sherlock closes the door before towering over Jim. 'When this is over, you don't even think about touching her. You will burn if anything happens to her. And I mean you and only you if anything happens. It's now in your best interest to keep her safe.'

'Moran will keep her safe.'

'Good. Eat your cake.' Jim shoves Sherlock's plate into his hand. 'Your mother is quite a force to be reckoned with.'

'Raising Mycroft and me, you have to be. Besides the Holmes family are extremely picky about the women they marry or love. They have to be respected in their chosen profession. Mummy is a music historian. The one to go to on rare woodwinds'

'Uncle David is?'

'Her brother-in-law, sister's husband.' The phone rings. 'Mummy. I've got it.' Sherlock reaches across the to phone. 'Hello, Isolde is currently unavailable at the moment can I take a message?' Jim grimaces. 'What?' Sherlock mouths at him 'She is.' Jim shakes his head. 'Hello, Aunt Corin, how are you coping?'

'I'm coping fine Lock, how's the case?' Jim strains to listen to the voice emitted from the handset speaker.

'How did you know I would be on it?'

'Lock.' Jim smirks.

'We've got potential names Aunt. But we've got to track them down. One, we already have.' Isolde enters the kitchen carrying empty plates. 'Aunt Corin, is there any of the chilli sponge at the manor?'

'No. It's been finished.'

'Corin?' Sherlock nods.

'Sherlock, hand the phone to your mother but before you do tell your godfather to get his butt down here now.'

'Aunt Corin, he won't not until Raymond's killers are brought to justice. Regardless of whether you want him at the manor or not.'

'Where's he staying?'

'The fat git's.' Isolde and Jim hear Corin's laugh down the phone at Sherlock's comment. Sherlock gives his mother the handset. Jim slips out of the kitchen to the living room. Sherlock follows him allowing his mother some privacy as she talks to her sister. The doorbell peels and Sherlock glances at the silhouette. 'Jim, we're going.'

'Why?'

'Wouldn't thought you would be so domestic Jim.' Sherlock strides to the door and wrenches it open. He plasters a false smile on his face. 'Hello Father, it's good to see. But alas unfortunately I've got work to do. Talk soon. Good bye.' Sherlock steps past his father and out of the house. 'Oh and she's on the phone to Aunt Corin. Bye Mummy! Come on Jim.' Sherlock and Jim stride down the road. If they looked back they would see that Mr Siger Holmes was staring after them. Isolde appears at the door. 'Hello Siger, has Sherlock gone?'


End file.
